


Etymology

by Kawaiibooker



Series: A Theory of Piracy [5]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Miscommunication, Nakamaship, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Whole Cake Island, Protective Roronoa Zoro, There's A Tag For That, Worried Vinsmoke Sanji, in which Sanji and Zoro use up a year's worth of gruff talk in one go, yes we're dealing with the whole vinsmoke fiasco Right Now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23985457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiibooker/pseuds/Kawaiibooker
Summary: et·y·mol·o·gy(n.)The study of a word's origin.*For Sanji, coming home is easier said than done.
Relationships: Monkey D. Luffy & Vinsmoke Sanji, Mugiwara Kaizoku | Strawhat Pirates & Vinsmoke Sanji, Roronoa Zoro & Vinsmoke Sanji
Series: A Theory of Piracy [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682008
Comments: 60
Kudos: 637





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Whole Cake and before Wano (in the Stampede-esque way where the gang's all here but canon still happened).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [Pitte](https://twitter.com/PPitteArt).
> 
> Content warning for the aftermath of (past) trauma and symptoms of PTSD.

“Monkey D. _Luffy_!”

With a resounding _bang_ , the door to the galley is kicked open by black dress shoes. Sanji stomps out on Sunny’s lawn to find it utterly deserted: the crew is around, eight distinct presences buzzing at the periphery of his Haki, just out of sight. Above, their flag flutters softly in the wind and–

 _There!_ A tuft of black hair peeks from the window of the crow’s nest, two wide eyes glancing down and right at him before vanishing altogether. The monotonous grunting of their resident sword-wielding idiot continues unfazed, “542… 543…”, and Sanji will deal with _him_ later.

“Oh, Captain?”

Sanji’s voice is inviting, sticky-sweet like the candies he makes for Chopper. Luffy reappears like the gullible fool he is, eyes alight with curiosity. “Sanji?”

One swift kick to the main mast – _Bro, not cool!_ comes from Franky’s workshop below deck – and Luffy’s grip slips. Sanji lights a cigarette and draws just as much satisfaction from the first smoke-filled breath as he does from watching Luffy crash face-first into the grass. A moment later, the remnants of what used to be a Luffy-proof padlock join its murderer on the floor, teeth marks and warped shackle and all.

“Explain.”

The order is little more than a venomous hiss and Luffy sweats bullets, mouth opening around a long _uhhh_ with nothing to follow it. “It wasn’t me?”

Nothing worthwhile, that is.

Sanji inhales deep for the sake of his nerves, snatches the cig between index and middle finger to point it accusingly at his captain and he lets loose: “ _I told you_ lunch is in an hour”, and “It’s the _third time_ this week”, and “An _hour_ , you shitty–” and that’s as far as Sanji gets before his brain catches up to his words and his heart lurches against his ribs–

And why is it that Luffy’s expression goes all hopeful up until that point?

Sanji falls silent and it’s a graceless, clumsy thing, the pause afterwards. His gaze searches for the mangled lock on the ground and he sighs.

“What do you want, Luffy? I can make you another bento if you’re hungry, just… Stop breaking the locks.”

There’s only two of those left, after all, and even _if_ they weren't at high sea and the next island was just over the horizon, there’s no way Sanji will tarnish Nami’s meticulously kept budget with that. Not when he already owes her something he doesn’t know how to repay.

“Okay, Sanji”, Luffy says, hesitates, tells him: “Your bentos are the best!”

Sounding so serious, like it’s a matter of life or death for Sanji to understand what Luffy’s saying.

It’s weird is what it is. Just another thing that changed while Sanji wasn’t looking, and it chafes against the scar tissue barely starting to grow inside him. What would he give to turn back time, to tell Capone Bege to take that invitation and _go fuck himself_ with it instead of–

It’s too late now. For that, and many other things.

Sanji looks anywhere but at Luffy – as if that’s ever helped anybody escape that gaze, that uncanny perceptiveness that strikes like a thief cloaked in shadows – and he scratches at his wrist. Mumbles, “Whatever”, and turns tail like the coward he is, slinking back to the only place things make sense anymore.

Luffy’s somber eyes follow him every step of the way there.

*

Despite everything, Sanji expects Luffy to tell on him.

The Sunny’s swaying pace is familiar from the moment he stepped foot on deck, enough so that Sanji let himself be rocked into tentative relaxation as Big Mom’s fleet turned into insignificant specks in the distance, then disappeared entirely. Luffy had yelled for food – voice raspy from exhaustion and whatever else he’d put himself through to get there in time, and Sanji swore to himself he’d think about it later, _later_ – and what kind of chef would Sanji be if he didn’t deliver?

His kitchen had been a right mess, spotted with drops of purple-looking _somethings_ and the traces of a fire made hazy by a thin layer of dust. It had taken everything Sanji had left in him not to burst into tears right then and there.

_Home. I’m home._

And so he cooked, and he hugged Chopper tight while the reindeer wailed incomprehensible words into his chest, and he accepted the tender pressure of hands on his back and arms swung around his shoulders and each and every soft-eyed smile gifted to him. _Welcome back_ , some said it outright and some didn’t; Zoro’s gaze had been steady when Sanji had finally met it over the heads of the crew, warm even, and the hairline fractures in Sanji’s soul ached as they started to heal.

Even injured as he was, Luffy’s laugh was loud over it all. Love and light and everything Sanji will ever believe in, all poured into a grin only a rubber body could produce.

For a while, Sanji was fine. Not… over it, not _okay_ by any meaning of the word but getting there, in his own way: Up by the crack of dawn and crawling back into his bunk around midnight, and the scratchiness of his covers and the comforting nothing-scent of his own pillow was enough then. Like the weeks he spent away, not-here, were a part of history so distant and unreachable only Robin would know how to recover it.

Then the new bounties dropped in his lap, quite literally, and one glance at his own shattered the rose-tinted world Sanji had _just_ convinced himself was reality.

It hangs amongst the others now, tacked between _Strawhat Luffy_ and _God Usopp_ for the first time since they all had bounties to display at all, and Sanji would be touched by being placed center stage if the letters on that poster didn’t haunt every moment he’s spent in the men’s quarters since. He doesn’t have the heart to tell Luffy to take it down, not after his captain had seen his skyrocketing bounty and practically shook out of his skin with excitement.

“Worth a thousand people, I told you guys! About time they realize it, too. Right, Sanji?”

After the month he’s had, Sanji wouldn’t have been above giving up the All Blue itself just to hear his captain sing him praises like that but–

The name _Vinsmoke Sanji_ was right there _,_ written in ink for all the world to see, and Luffy was looking between it and him like Sanji hadn’t kneeled at his feet a mere week ago, blind with tears and begging to be allowed back home. To return to the place at his side that he had been granted in a different ocean, a different life, and that he’d _thrown away_.

A decision he made with little to no alternatives yet Sanji regrets it all. He regrets the bandages that persist around Luffy’s waist, speckled pink from a wound still healing, and the worried looks on his back that wrap themselves like blocks of concrete around his ankles. Dragging him down and under, and it doesn’t matter how powerful his legs are _Sanji can’t outrun this_. Not this time.

Not the first time, either, but the choice there had been between a cage and a future, and even as a child Sanji knew hope was worth living for, somehow, somewhere.

He let Luffy have the poster, then, stared at the number instead of the name and got a good rise out of the moss-headed swordsman that kept his mind off it all for most of the afternoon. By the time he went to bed that night, Sanji was exhausted enough that getting to his hammock was all he could focus on.

*

His dreams are not as kind as his body, however.

Sanji wakes with the taste of tears on his tongue and a cacophony of childish giggling in his ears, and for the first time in years he’s surprised, for all of a split-second, that his head isn’t weighed down by iron.

*

The vegetables are neatly diced and the water near-boiling when–

“ _Whaaat?!_ ”

–Monkey D. Luffy’s voice echoes across the ship loud enough Sanji starts and almost, _almost_ cuts his finger instead of the entrecôte he’s slicing off a cow’s ribcage in methodical motions. A curse is quick to come to the cook’s lips, the tip of his cigarette glowing with the sigh he breathes before he washes the blood off his hands, turns off the stove and fridges the meat in the span of a few seconds.

Sanji is not the only one to follow the sound of that primal scream to the upper deck. There, they find Luffy staring open-mouthed from Nami to Robin and back, all crestfallen like they just broke the news all stag beetles in the world have spontaneously gone extinct. Bleary-eyed from where he was obviously taking a nap, Zoro grumbles, “What the hell, are you serious?”, and it doesn’t sound like he’s protesting the noise but what was said to cause it in the first place.

“Is something the matter?”, inquires Brook with mild-mannered concern in his tone; Franky flicks his sunglasses up to better survey the situation at hand and Chopper is already yelling, “A doctor! We need a–” before Usopp grabs the panicking reindeer and shushes him patiently.

Yet it’s _Sanji_ they stare at, four sets of eyes wide with trepidation and Sanji’s heart drops to the soles of his shoes because yeah, it took longer than expected. It’s still _happening_ , though, and in a forgotten corner of his thoughts Sanji wonders which of his nightmares is coming true this time around.

Fear is quick to rise to his throat, a pressure that threatens to cut his very breath short. Sanji swallows it down and asks, “What?”, voice hard and defensive even to his own ears.

And just like that, the bubble bursts: Robin smiles, quiet and sad, and Nami looks away and Luffy waves his hands – “Uh, nothing! Don’t worry about it!” – and Zoro’s expression shutters so fast Sanji can’t gleam anything at all from him.

Sanji opens his mouth to protest, to tell his captain exactly _where_ he can shove that shitty lie of his–

Face after face his gaze touches and he realizes, with an instinct almost as old as himself, that they won’t tell. The others, yes, the meaningful look of _later_ between Nami and Usopp is proof of that – not Sanji, though, she won’t tell _him_ because Nami hasn’t told him much of anything since he came back, and Sanji knows he deserves it. He deserves it all and still it _hurts_ , his battered heart clenching just because it can, because it will always care about this handful of people he calls family in the solitude of his mind no matter if they want him around or not.

There’s alarm in Luffy’s eyes then, a quick burst of “Sanji, wait–” and Sanji might understand why he’s _not allowed_ but he doesn’t have to stick around and beg for a confirmation. He has some pride left, after all.

“Dinner’s in an hour”, he spits around his cigarette and turns away. His back is straight and his pace measured as he forces himself to descend the stairs one at a time and–

“I said _wait._ Dinner’s on us today, okay?”

“Luffy”, warns Zoro quietly and Sanji neither wants nor needs his pity, either.

Luffy ignores him too, says, “I’m gonna be careful this time, I promise”, voice upbeat and gentle and _everything Sanji doesn’t want to hear._ Usually Luffy’s promises are the stones that pave the way Sanji walks on but this, it twists in the hollow of his chest like a key turning in a lock.

Sanji’s grip on the railing is hard enough to make the wood creak. He lowers his head and says, “Aye, Captain”, and only later will he notice he forgot to put any sort of fight into those two words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said it's gonna be fluffy but uhhh that ain't what ended up happening hahaha........ (*circles the Miscommunication tag three times and draws arrows around it* Sanji is _not_ an unbiased narrator here, folks ;^;)
> 
> Given the complicated topic it took me longer to wrap my head around how I wanna tackle this. At some point I realized that, while Luffy is incredibly intuitive with people's emotions, he can't read minds either and issues with past trauma this intense would overwhelm even him. HMMM....
> 
> But more on that in a few days! The second half is coming sometime next week - sorry 'bout the delay! This fic will have a happy ending though, do not fret.
> 
> Until then: Let me know what you think? c:


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [Pitte](https://twitter.com/PPitteArt).
> 
> Please note the updated tags (and let me know if I should add anything else)! Additional content warning for panic attack(s) and unintentional self-harm.

Wide, endless blue. The touch of sun-warmed wood under his palm. A breeze carrying the scent of tangerines and ocean salt.

Those are the things Sanji had dreamed of in hell. Not the two years he likes to refer to as such – the Drag Queens, too, have aspirations like everyone else – but the one he didn’t think possible, crossing into reality via a bridge not burned thoroughly enough. A hell made of stone walls high enough to swallow the sea and the sky and the stars.

 _If_ , Sanji had thought, gaze fixed on the lonely moon above, _if I make it out of here alive, I will let them know._

That every time he closes his eyes and dares to imagine a future, they are with him. That happiness is a smile under a straw hat, and love a home-cooked meal, and freedom a black flag in the wind, flying, flying.

Sanji lets out a long breath and watches smoke dissipate into nothingness. Turns out there is no such thing as second chances, not for someone like him.

*

He feels him coming long before soft, measured steps reach his ears.

“Cook.”

The Sunny will remain idle for the night; the anchor was dropped not too long ago, the lion’s claw resting peacefully on a shallow reef. Arms crossed over the railing, Sanji’s chin rests on the back of his hands. He watches as its colorful inhabitants swim up close to the ship and nip at polished Adam wood, their bioluminescence making the waves glint like silver.

“Fuck off. I’m not in the mood.”

A wasted effort, Sanji knows: The heavy presence behind him doesn’t shift, doesn’t go anywhere, persisting as it always has. The skin on Sanji’s back crawls with the need to turn around and _make him_.

“Mosshead”, Sanji says, a hiss and a warning in one.

“Hm?”

Unbothered, like Sanji didn’t speak at all.

The evening is mild, infused with residual heat from a sunny day just past. Sanji grinds his teeth hard enough the other will be able to hear it, a mere handful of paces away. “I mean it. Leave.”

Zoro scoffs, “Nah.” His boots creak as he takes another step, _closer_ , and–

A streak of blurred motion and embers spark against the sleek black of Haki. Sanji gives him a grin that’s a joyless show of teeth and not much else; illuminated by fierce red, Zoro’s lips flatten into a tense line.

“I said”, Sanji growls, lets himself fall on his hands and _twists_ , gains speed. “Fuck. _Off._ ”

The hit connects, the force of a volcanic eruption meeting immovable steel and Sanji is close enough to see the fire’s glow reflect in the fathomless depth of Zoro’s eye, growing darker still–

Sanji makes to draw back but _can’t_ , realizes in the split-second between shifting his weight on his palms and a sudden ache around his leg that it’s not a scabbard but Zoro’s hand that met the blow, fingers clawed, gripping, not letting _go_.

“I’m not fighting you.”

 _Of course._ Because why would anything in Sanji’s fucked up life ever stay the same?

The breath in Sanji’s lungs leaves his mouth a pissed off _tch_ and he lets the flames flare, watches with righteous fury in his chest how Zoro inhales sharply and _hesitates_ – to release him or be burned, and Sanji’s leg tugs free a moment later.

“Bastard. Going soft on me, are you?”

There’s no hesitation in his movements as Sanji turns on the tips of his fingers and strikes, again and again, snarling against the stoicism on Zoro’s face as the man’s hands don’t reach for his swords once. “That’s not it”, Zoro tells him like he’s stating the obvious, and it’s the simple kind of statement that pierces Sanji’s defenses and aims straight at his core.

The next kick draws blood, a neat scrape-and-burn across the scar on Zoro’s cheek, and Sanji’s gasp is louder than the low grunt that comes from Zoro.

Sanji’s feet hit the ground with dull, unbalanced steps and he stares, wide-eyed, at the stray drops of crimson that pool and run down tan skin, near-black in the oncoming moonlight. The instinctive question – _Are you alright?_ – remains unsaid, acidic where it sticks to Sanji’s tongue. His chest feels tight, tight.

“You done?”

There’s an air of indifference to Zoro’s voice but Sanji _knows_ Zoro, can see the demon coiled within the man, straining to bite back. Zoro rolls his neck, hands flexing against the bruises smudging his skin as his Haki fades.

Sanji is _lost_ , mouth slack and breath panting like it’s an army he just fought and not his _friend_. For a moment, he’s back on a field of endless green under cotton candy clouds, painting it red in uneven splatters as he kicks, and kicks, and kicks without resistance–

“Why?”, he rasps, voice trembling, utterly outside of his control. Sanji blinks and clenches his jaw, struggles to retain some of the anger in there somewhere. “Stop fucking around and _fight back_.”

“No.”

Zoro crosses his arms, wide open now, and his gaze is analytical as it tracks the way Sanji tenses and stays exactly where he is. That singular eye narrows, a bloodhound that caught a scent.

“I left you guys. I had a choice and _I left_.”

“You had your reasons”, Zoro says, calmly. He takes a step forward and Sanji takes one back, heart rattling wildly against the cage of his chest.

“I– I went after him, Zoro. I attacked my captain. I didn’t hold anything back.”

That makes Zoro’s lips twitch into a frown, displeased but not surprised and– _Luffy talked_ , Sanji thinks and something inside him breaks just that little bit more.

“I know.” Yet Zoro’s swords stay sheathed. Another step closer. “Luffy’s wounds… There’s only one style I know that causes those and it’s yours.”

The railing presses against the small of Sanji’s back and he’s trapped, has no space to move and nowhere else to look but at Zoro and the cut that continues to bleed, dripping lazily onto Zoro’s shirt–

And Sanji can’t get enough air in his lungs, fingers tingling with numbness and iridescent spots dancing in front of his eyes and he’s aware, suddenly, that he might pass out.

“Sanji.”

There are hands on his shoulders then, Zoro’s palms a solid-warm weight, squeezing, keeping him on his feet. “Hey”, he murmurs, low enough that Sanji knows it’s meant for him, just for him. “I need you to listen to me.”

Thoughts swirl and collide in Sanji’s head and nothing makes _sense_. He nods even though Zoro isn’t exactly _asking_ – a jerky, helpless motion – and something in Zoro’s eye softens.

“Breathe, okay? Nothing’s going on. Nothing’s _changed_.”

He shakes Sanji, obviously trying to make a point. Even now it’s ridiculously gentle, coming from _Zoro_ , and Sanji tries for him, he really does.

“At least not for us? _You_ got your hackles all the way up these days, and it’s making everyone nervous as hell. Like–”

A quiet struggle with words ends in a huff, quick and gruff.

“I think Luffy is about a day away from melting down if you don’t start calling him a _shitty rubber captain_ again – that sorta thing. And I don’t know what exactly happened on that island between you and him but _he_ insists it’s done and over with. So, is it?”

Sanji is pinned by that gaze again, sharp and searching and trying to _understand_. He breathes and finds he can, chest heaving with it–

“I don’t know”, Sanji tells Zoro and it’s the truth, the words brittle like old bones. Sanji’s wrists _burn_ and he scratches at them. “I thought I’d left all that Vinsmoke shit behind me but _it keeps coming back_. I don’t know if they’ll ever let me be.”

Zoro sighs, deeply. A breath Sanji feels against his skin and it occurs to him they’ve never been this close, not without being at each other’s throats at the same time.

“You fool. That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“ _Listen to me_ , shithead”, Sanji snaps; he scratches, scratches. “It’s no joke. They know things about me, about _all of us_ , and I wouldn’t have left if– This shit’s serious. Don’t you get it?”

“More serious than what, the Emperors? The fucking _World Government_? Fine. Let them come. I don’t care who those Vin-whatever people think they are, and you know Captain doesn’t either– _Stop that._ ”

Faster than Sanji can anticipate, Zoro grabs his hand, snatches it away from his wrist and– _Oh, it’s bleeding_ , Sanji realizes with a slow blink. His hand is bleeding.

“What are you, stupid or something?”

The rest of what Zoro mutters under his breath is lost to Sanji; before he can even think to pull away, Zoro is tugging at the bandana tied around his bicep. Fingers calloused and rough, he folds the fabric over the criss-crossing, bloody lines and ignores Sanji’s hiss of pain, grasp tightening further.

Making Sanji feel his frustration and weirdly, it’s that that makes the ground under Sanji’s legs feel solid again.

“Get out of your head already”, Zoro is saying, brows drawn and eye focused on the knot he’s tying against Sanji’s palm. Sanji… lets him.

“Did you apologize to him or not?”

Indignation burns in Sanji’s gut at that and he knocks Zoro’s hands away, ignoring how soothing the bandana feels against the rawness of his skin.

“What the–! _Of course I did._ D’you think I’d even take a fucking step on Sunny if I hadn’t?!”

And Sanji _sees_ the tension bleed right out of Zoro and he hates him a little, in that moment. The swordsman rests one arm on Wado’s grip and scratches his stupidly green hair with the other, mildly annoyed now.

“Well, then. Snap out of it.”

Like it’s the one and only conclusion there is. Like an apology could ever make up for any of the things Sanji did, what he put Luffy through, that he made Nami cry and scream for him to _stop–_

“It’s not that easy”, Sanji hisses, getting back in his face and Zoro meets him in the middle this time, growling:

“ _Good._ It shouldn’t be. Suck it up and stop making everyone miserable.”

“ _Then stop keeping secrets from me!_ ”

The shout is loud, shattering any pretense of privacy on a ship that’s been suspiciously quiet this entire time – especially by their standards – and Sanji doesn’t _care_. He’s done being blamed for something that can’t be entirely his fault, not when everyone was there when he got kicked out of _his own damn galley._ Not when he felt them all put their heads together the moment he was out of sight, like Sanji wouldn’t notice, like _Observation Haki isn’t a thing that exists._

And as much as he’s thought about it (and he has, for hours and hours and hours), Sanji doesn’t know _why_. Yes, he left and he hurt Luffy and _he deserves it_ but why this? Why now?

Sanji is a Strawhat Pirate, he’s used to all things whimsical and idiotic and those have always made sense to him, before.

This just… It doesn’t, isn’t even anywhere near it. A location marked X beyond the borders of a map, where mythical creatures are drawn among nebulous lines – there’s simply no way for Sanji to get there, not without Luffy to guide him and Nami to make sure they stay on course and all the other things he’s taken for granted before all of this happened.

“Or– Let me do my job, at least. Please.”

So this is Sanji, giving in. This is Sanji, standing chest to chest with Zoro and witnessing, up close and personal, how a look of sheer bewilderment blooms on his face. All it does is twist him further up inside until he feels like he’s going to throw up or maybe cry.

Sanji is far beyond tears, now.

“ _Let me cook”_ , he begs instead, with a desperation he won’t hide anymore because if there’s _one thing_ Sanji needs Zoro to understand it’s this. “I know I’m a fuck-up but I’m a good chef. Let me have that.”

“ _Sanji–_ ”

A hand is raised and Sanji doesn’t flinch as much as he holds his breath, the instinct to _brace himself_ as inescapable as the blood that runs through his veins. Zoro _stops_ and stares at him. Looking genuinely shaken as he inhales and opts to cross his arms in front of his chest.

“Look, just– Help me understand, ‘cause you lost me somewhere. Where is all of this coming from?”

Sanji just groans, “You’re lost? You were _there_ ”, runs a hand through his hair and forces himself to go back to square one, _again_.

“Earlier. Luffy, Nami, Robin, _you_. You were talking about something. Then you all looked at me. Then Luffy said–”

“Okay, stop. That, right there. _That’s_ what this is about?!”

“I… _Yes._ ”

It takes a few seconds for Zoro to stop gaping at Sanji and then he _laughs_ , and Sanji’s gut drops in the same moment that blood rushes to his face. He thinks: _Oh, I’m going to kill him._

“What. The hell. Mosshead.”

Zoro waves his hands, palm-up, gesturing for Sanji to _wait_ and for some reason he actually does, cheeks burning and knees weak with shame as he watches Zoro trying his damnedest not to crack up again.

“Sorry. No, I mean it, I really shouldn’t– But fuck, you should’ve just _said so_. Cook, it’s your birthday.”

_What?_

“What?”, Sanji voices the thought out loud, tone flat; Zoro tempers his grin to a close-lipped smile and says:

“Your birthday. It passed two days ago and we didn’t, uh. Well, we didn’t know ‘cause you never told us, actually. Robin figured it out somehow. March 2nd, right?”

“…What.”

“ _Yeah._ That’s the big secret, you _idiot_.”

The insult is undeniably fond and Zoro sounds so _relieved_ , like that one revelation will solve all of the world’s mysteries at once and it… kind of does? Or it will, once Sanji’s mind stops spinning because _it’s his birthday_.

That’s what they were whispering about. His birthday. The birthday of his _brothers_. The day Sanji has hated all of his life and hasn’t celebrated, not even once, since he left the Vinsmoke name behind.

Sanji swallows. His fingers itch for a smoke but Zoro’s bandana is still wrapped around his wrist and the guy hates the smell of his cigarettes.

“And Luffy…?”

Zoro just gives him a _look_ , brow raised, eye glinting. “What do you think? Birthdays are important to him, you know that. Oh, which reminds me: It’s supposed to be a surprise. Don’t ruin it for them.”

It’s then that Sanji lets the railing take some of his weight because– “There’s a surprise.”

Amusement turns to frowned concern on Zoro’s face. “ _Why_ is all of this news to you? Robin’s was just last month. Franky’s is coming up. There’s always a surprise.”

“Shut up”, Sanji tells him but it’s weak and he knows it. “It just never applied to me before.” Another thing occurs to him, then:

“Wait. Did _Luffy_ put you up to this?”

By this point, Zoro is looking at him with the same pitying disdain Trafalgar Law tends to wield against _all of them_ and it’s rich, coming from someone who opens a book maybe once a decade.

“He told me to keep you busy, not give you a therapy session but same difference, I guess.”

Sanji huffs, “As if I’d ever take advice from a meat-headed idiot of all people”, and reaches for his pocket because Zoro deserves some cigarette smell after all.

Zoro eyes the newly-lit cig in his hand for a moment before joining him against the railing, close enough to brush shoulders. Sanji blows the smoke away from him and pretends not to notice.

“So. How long are we giving them, then?”

“Mh. Twenty minutes? It's been a while already.”

“Fine”, Sanji sighs. “What are they even making?”

“Do you know what a surprise _is_?”

“Ha ha.” A bout of silence. Sanji smokes. “Luffy better not burn down my kitchen. Again.”

Zoro hums, giving the cook a side-long glance.

“He _did_ promise to be careful, y’know.”

Sanji can’t help it: He smiles, just a little.

“Yeah, I know.”

*

Light spills from underneath the door onto deck and with it, the muffled sound of laughter and multiple voices talking all over each other. Sanji reaches for the handle and doesn’t let himself hesitate, not anymore.

It swings open on well-oiled hinges and reveals the galley in all its glory: Sanji lets his gaze roam from the bowls stacked precariously in the sink to the colorful sprinkles tossed all across the floor all the way to the group of people freezing in the middle of what could be reasonably described as a food fight.

Or, as Sanji recognizes, his crewmates’ valiant attempt to bake something without him.

The smell of sugar and raw cake batter is almost overpowering in this kitchen made small by way too many cooks. At the center of it all is the rubber idiot that is his captain, half of his face almost artistically covered in different kinds of frosting. The chef in Sanji can’t help but calculate just how many provisions must’ve gone into keeping those sticky fingers away from the multi-layered cake in their midst.

It's half-finished and still manages to tower over them all (minus perhaps Franky).

“Sanji!”

It’s Luffy who calls out to him, all joyful and not at all bothered by the fact none of it is done as he yells, “Surprise!”, and the rest of the crew cheers with him. Even Nami, and Sanji catches her eyes across the room and her beautiful smile stays exactly where it is.

And it’s not quite forgiveness but an offer nonetheless: One Sanji would be a fool not to accept.

There is that look of hope on Luffy’s face again, the one that’s a question as much as it’s trying to be an answer at the same time. Behind Sanji, Zoro sighs a fond little breath now that his mission is accomplished and he steps past him to join their crew, glancing over his shoulder as if to ask, _you coming?_

Sanji takes it all in and his heart _melts_ , dripping between his ribs to gather warmly in his stomach. “You assholes had me worried”, he tells them without any sort of bite whatsoever, and Luffy beams.

“But _Sanji_. Birthday meals are made by friends. Those are the rules!”

It turns out to be the best damn cake Sanji has ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay before I say anything else, a massive thank you to my beta and not-so-local ZoSan expert [Pitte](https://twitter.com/PPitteArt) for keeping me sane through that long-ass scene in the middle.
> 
> Secondly: I've been listening to both the [20th One Piece opening](https://open.spotify.com/track/3Qcj8m6FFHhInWjjOrZRom) and [Smoke + Mirrors by Imagine Dragons](https://open.spotify.com/album/0Ikw6ho559687KCPbSjr0K) while writing this and oof. My emotions.
> 
> This is what happens when I set out to write a wholesome fic about Sanji's birthday lmfao. I just kept thinking about how his shithead brothers must've made it a living hell every single year, and that Sanji deserves a family who loves him and wants to see him grow and thrive.
> 
> Also - Zoro trying to keep up with the sheer amount of bullshit Sanji was put through in his life was really rewarding if also a little maddening to write... I love how much he cares under all that gruffness hnnn.......
> 
> Anyhow, I hope y'all enjoyed and I'll see ya in the next one c:

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://kawaiibooker.tumblr.com) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/kawaiibooker)


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